Call me crazy, but I love snow. I know it's February, and we are headed towards spring and warmer weather, but winter is my favorite season. When I decided on my college of choice, half the reason I chose a school in Michigan was the amount of snow I was promised. I grew up in a North Carolina town, where even the hint of snow was reason enough to close the school districts and clean the grocery stores out of bread and milk. Think I'm kidding?
My junior year of high school, we were out of school for three-and-a-half days (we were released before the snow started to fall), which then ate into our spring break time. The first day it was absolutely great; pajamas and hot chocolate and TV all day was a dream, until the second day rolled around and the snow was half melted and looked almost black because of the dirt.
Here's the thing about winter in NC—it is usually pretty mild, but on the occasion that we do have winter weather, it is about an inch or so of snow, and then lots and lots of ice. More than anything, the big problem is black ice, because while the snow may melt the day after it falls, it will refreeze overnight, making it even more dangerous to leave the house. Unfortunately, because The South is its winter stereotypes, everything shuts down when winter weather arrives. No one knows how to react--salt isn't put out in time, people forget how to drive, and everything is chaos.
I thought getting out of the south would be a great way to experience winter in a way that I perceived as "correct." Namely, in a way that the entire city isn't a complete ghost town because a couple of snowflakes fell from the sky. And boy, was I right. The first time it snowed my freshman year, it was so beautiful that I dragged my roommate outside with me to stand in the snow for a while. She was from the Chicago area, and was, therefore, unimpressed, but she humored me.
After about a day of snow, the rest of campus was complaining about how much of a hassle the snow was, but I was still in awe. When fall semester finals rolled around, snow still covered the ground with more to come, which was a perfect study break. My friends and I threw on some warm clothes, channelled our inner child, and played in the snow. Yes, we were those kids, and they are memories I hope to never lose.
As a junior, I still feel the same sense of awe whenever it snows. I stare out the window as the flakes fall to the ground, basking in the beauty of the snowfall. Classes rarely get cancelled, but that is perfectly fine with me; the campus is small and I love walking through a winter wonderland. I have no idea what it is, but snow always seems to make everything so peaceful. It could be the purity of the white, the way it covers everything in a blanket, or how everything seems to be quiet and calm when snow is on the ground.
Yes, of course, there are the hazards of driving and luckily I have been able to avoid driving in the snow, but there is still something so beautiful. I am forever feeling like Lorelai Gilmore; she always says there is something magical about the snow, and I completely agree. I feel giddy every time the forecast calls for snow, and even more so when there is actually snow falling from the sky. My friends still look at me strangely, but by now I assume they are used to my reaction so they can deal.
The winter months are coming to a close, and that is more than alright. Everything beautiful has an expiration date; all I know is that I am already looking forward to next winter and the next snowfall.
